


Never Was

by haldoor



Category: Lost
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Lost: Post-Island, M/M, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 14:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13296780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haldoor/pseuds/haldoor
Summary: Warnings:None for the show; AU relationship after the island; one slightly kinky sex sceneBeta:The always wondrouskitty_trioSummary:Sawyer doesn't want to be tied to one person or place, and Sayid lets him go.Disclaimer:I don't own them, never will, more's the pity.  No money exchanged hands (except in the fic).





	Never Was

**Author's Note:**

> I am slowly adding some old fics from my pre-AO3 days, when I mostly wrote LOST fic; I won't be adding all of them in here; just some that I was particularly proud of or happy about, like this one that I wrote for **zelda_zee** during the 2008 Lost Luau. Originally posted [here](https://haldoor-honey.livejournal.com/40438.html) on my fic LJ.
> 
> This story features a slightly AU version of how things might have ended up, probably if the freighter had never arrived and some other, less sinister rescue mission had in it's place, bringing these boys safely to L.A. It has romance, angst, sex, and just a little bit of happiness, I think

He must have seen the cigarette glowing, was all Sawyer could think, although why he bothered to approach now, Sawyer wasn't sure. The hopelessness Sawyer felt must surely be getting across to him, after this last week of silences followed by angry outbursts.

"What exactly is it that I have done?" Sayid asked quietly, leaning on the fence next to Sawyer.

"Nothin'. It's nothin' you've done. It's just time I thought about movin' on before it gets any worse."

"But..." Sayid began, and although Sawyer couldn't see his face in the dim light, he could hear the confusion in the word. "If I haven't done anything, then why?"

"It's not you, chief, it's me." He huffed at the cliché, rolling his eyes and taking another puff of his cigarette. He'd never imagined he'd say such a thing to someone. "I can't do this. All this... domesticity. It ain't me. I been roaming wild too long."

"Sawyer, just because you haven't done it, doesn't mean you can't."

"Maybe not, but I don't think I _want_ to. I'm itchin' to move on, Sayid, and I gotta follow that or I'll go crazy."

"So what we said when we moved in here means nothing? All those words of sharing a life now we're finally away from all that...?" Sayid spoke softly, but the emotion behind his words was as clear as the blue sky in Tennessee.

"Look... I was just... it seemed right then, after all we'd been through, but there never was anything like that between us, not properly. Now my mind's clearer, I just... I can't do it, Sayid. I gotta get some road behind me, find a way to do what I need..." he trailed off, dropping the cigarette and stubbing it out under his toe as he pushed off the fence.

"What do you need, Sawyer? There was a time I thought it was me."

"I don't even know, Sayid. I thought that too for a bit, but I can see now we just clung to each other 'cause we were all we had. Everyone else had someone... why not us? It ain't working though; you gotta see that."

"I thought it was working. That seems to have changed only in the last week. What happened last Friday, Sawyer? I know something happened. Why won't you tell me?"

"Nothing happened," Sawyer bluffed, stepping away and heading back towards the house. "I'm gonna go pack now. I'll be gone before morning."

Sayid didn't say anything further, and Sawyer frowned, giving once last glance back to the lonely figure silhouetted in darkness. 

~//~

The road was lonely; that much hadn't changed. Nights were especially hard, alone in cheap motels. Sawyer had bad dreams still, and now there was no-one to hold him while his heart slowed down. Sayid had let him go more easily than he expected in the end, as if Sawyer had been right about what had never been between them.

Sawyer kept moving though, the distance between him and Sayid growing further with each passing day, although barely an hour went by when Sawyer didn't think of him for some reason. He wondered if Sayid thought about where Sawyer was, going into his important meetings; whether his eyes would cloud over in that thoughtful way they did when something meaningful passed through his mind. Probably not, he told himself.

Too many days seemed the same already, and Sawyer felt the tug after less than two weeks. He didn't follow it though; that would be stupid. Instead he found a postcard he thought Sayid would like; one with a beautiful desert sunset on it, and filled in the address. He stared at it for a long time, but he couldn't think of a single thing to write. In the end, he bought the stamp and mailed it as it was.

Another two weeks passed before he bought the next card. This time it showed mountains; a clear crystal stream meandering between leafy trees and spilling over into an inviting valley. Again, Sawyer couldn't think of anything to say and left it blank. Sayid would know who they were from; he was familiar with Sawyer's awkward scrawl, although the man who'd suggested Sayid's money could help pay off Sawyer's big debt wasn't.

~//~

He was in was in Toledo when Ralston caught up with him. The credit card had been a mistake, Sawyer knew, but he'd run out of cash and hadn't found work here yet; not that he'd intended to stay long.

"Thought clearing people out before you left 'em was your specialty," the familiar voice said as Sawyer leaned on the bar.

He didn't even turn his head. "Nothin' worth takin' there," he drawled, finishing his beer and sniffing as he put down the glass.

"Not the way it looked to me."

"Yeah, well, looks can be deceivin'."

The big man slid onto a stool next to Sawyer and gestured to the bartender. The handsome barman offered Sawyer a smile and a beer before putting a second glass in front of Ralston. Sawyer lifted an eyebrow in thanks, and glanced at Ralston as he lifted his beer.

" _Your_ looks deceive enough people, anyway," Ralston commented, watching the barman offer another look at Sawyer before he moved away. "Woulda thought the Arab was fair game. Or you just didn't want to share what you made off him? You've changed, Sawyer. Used to be, you paid your dues, which is pretty unusual for a con man, I have to say, but at least there was honour among thieves."

"Honour? That what you call it?" Sawyer huffed disbelievingly. "I paid my dues because if I didn't, my face wouldn't be my fortune any longer."

"Don't you think that's still a possibility?"

"Perhaps. But I ain't sure I care any more."

"Perhaps you should. What other way is a man like you going to make forty thousand dollars in short order?"

"Forty thousand? It was thirty a month ago!" Sawyer scowled.

"A man has expenses, and interest increases all the time. I want my money, Sawyer, and a pound of flesh won't do this time. I have bills to pay."

"If I hadn't reappeared from that godforsaken island, you'd'a had to look elsewhere. That was years ago, Ralston, and interest sure has a way of making a debt double in way too short a time. I don't do those kinda jobs any more."

"I don't believe that. Why else were you shacked up with Ali Baba? Men were never your thing, Sawyer. A tiger don't change his stripes."

Sawyer snorted and took another gulp of beer. "Shows how much you know," he muttered, standing up, fishing a bill from his wallet and dropping it on the bar top. "I ain't got your money, Ralston, and I ain't getting it."

He walked out without a backward glance, heading for his car. He'd be out of Toledo in less than an hour. But before he could open the car door, Ralston was behind him, two mean-looking sons of bitches on either side of him.

"I think you'll change your mind soon enough," Ralston commented, gesturing to the two men.

Sawyer looked from one to the other and leaned down to unlock the car. The first fist was less of a surprise than it might have been, but Sawyer didn't try to stop it. He oofed as it connected with his kidney, and staggered a little. The second hit him in the jaw and he almost fell, but for Ralston's firm grip on his shoulder.

"In the car, boys. We're going to see just what Sawyer has in his motel room."

~//~

Three hours later, when Sawyer came to, he lay still for a few minutes before attempting to move. The ache in his jaw told him he was alive, and as he attempted to sit up, the pain in his gut told him he was about to lose the beer he'd drunk earlier. Thankfully, he made it to the bathroom in time, but as he retched over the bowl he wondered why he bothered. He'd have been better off to let them finish the job, he thought miserably, rather than agree to do what he'd just done.

The postcard had tumbleweeds on it and not much else, but it looked like Sawyer felt; hollow and empty. He posted it immediately before picking up the phone. What Sayid would think about a phone call from him right now, he didn't know, but he wasn't sure he'd get what he was asking for.

He wasn't sure if Sayid would answer either, but at the soft voice at the end of the line, something tightened deep inside Sawyer and made him want to hang up again. He didn't though.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Sayid asked calmly, and then after a pause, queried even more softly, "Sawyer?"

"How'd you know?" Sawyer couldn't help asking.

"What do you need, Sawyer?"

Not 'what do you want?', but 'what do you need?' Had Sayid heard something? Sawyer hoped Ralston hadn't approached him direct. 

_I need you._

"Money," he said instead.

"How much? Where are you? I'll wire it."

"You will? I… it's a lot, Sayid."

"I can imagine. How much?"

Sawyer hesitated. If he got it all too easily, Ralston would look for more. If he gave him back the original stake, maybe he'd ease off, and Sawyer could get the rest without involving Sayid further.

"Twenty thousand dollars."

Sayid took an audible breath, but replied, "I can have it to you before close of business. You are still in America, aren't you? Will you come back then?"

"Thank you," Sawyer murmured, closing his eyes in pain, and leaning over the payphone. "Toledo. There's a Western Union office not far from here." He gave Sayid the details, but didn't answer the other question.

"I'll arrange it immediately," Sayid told him and the line went quiet, but he hadn't hung up.

"I can't, Sayid."

Sawyer didn't wait for Sayid to reply. He hung up and rubbed a hand over his face. Sayid hadn't even asked what he needed it for. Did he trust him that much?

~//~

Ralston laughed when Sawyer handed him the envelope. "Knew he was worth more than you were lettin' on. Get sick of sucking dick did ya? That why you left so quickly?"

Sawyer scowled, but kept his fists to himself. Men like Ralston would never understand, and it wasn't worth the effort to wipe the smile off his face, no matter how much Sawyer was itching to do it. He walked away.

"I'll need the rest before the end of the year, Sawyer," Ralston called out behind him. "Seems like plenty of time for you to earn it _honestly_. I'll find you, don't worry."

Sawyer didn't doubt that Ralston was capable of finding him. Nonetheless, he wasn't about to stay in Toledo. He'd already checked out of the motel, and he was leaving as soon as he got into his car.

One of Ralston's thugs was beside it though, and Sawyer hesitated as he approached.

"What do you want?" he asked, scanning the area for the other thug, although he couldn't spot him.

"Mr. Ralston asked that I ensure you get to your car safely."

Sawyer didn't answer. He fished his keys out of his pocket and stood there, holding them.

"Have a safe trip, Mr. Sawyer," the man grinned, stepping away from his car.

The additional threat wasn't necessary, but Sawyer felt the sharp edge of it cutting at his heart. He had a feeling he'd need to be careful. He watched the man leave, and turned back to his car. He loved this car, but he knew he had to get rid of it. Although he doubted they'd done anything to it, or Ralston would never get the rest of his money, he didn't want to risk driving it much further.

The car salesman didn't ask too many questions in the end, happy to have the extra money that Sayid had sent which allowed him the small upgrade. He tossed his meagre possessions in the back of the 'new' car and offered the old one a wistful look. Too bad. Without another backward glance, he left Toledo.

~//~

He was in Tennessee before he knew it. It hadn't taken much. It was like his feet, or his car, or something, had been pointing him there for the whole journey, though he hadn't exactly taken the most direct route. Sawyer wasn't even sure why he'd come, but it had seemed unavoidable somehow.

Sawyer hadn't been to his home state in more years than he wanted to think about. There was no-one there he wanted to see; no-one who'd be glad to see him, leastways.

Strangely, he couldn't seem to stop himself from driving to his grandfather's farm. He wasn't sure the old man was still alive, but when he pulled up at the old place, he wasn't even properly out of the car when Grampa Ford appeared on the stoop. 

"What you want, boy? Thought I'd seen the last of you years ago."

"Guess I wanted to see you, Gramps."

"You never do anything without a reason, boy, and I know that ain't it."

"Can you give me work, Gramps?"

"Work? You?" the old man snorted, looking Sawyer up and down. "You suddenly turned honest?"

"Tryin' to. I know I didn't give you any reason to believe me before, but this time's different. There's someone."

"You finally found yourself a woman you want to be honest for?" Grampa Ford narrowed his eyes disbelievingly.

Sawyer dropped his eyes and watched his boots scuffing the dirt. If he wanted Grampa to believe him, he had to be honest about _who_. The old man would read it in his eyes if he lied. The trouble was that Grampa was hardly going to understand about Sayid. He huffed a sigh and turned away.

"What? You think I don't believe you're capable of love, James? I know you are. It's just hard to credit you'd come to me for help if what you're saying's true. And where is she, this woman?"

"Not here. I can't go back there now. Not 'til I've sorted something; if at all. Can't... bring any of that shit down on..." he paused, licking his lip, and turned back.

"Okay, James. Come inside. I'll give you a chance, though Lord knows I shouldn't."

Sawyer's mouth parted, but he wasn't sure what to say. The old man gave him a long, hard look and then went inside. Sawyer followed.

~//~

In the end he didn't tell Grampa anything about Sayid. He didn't know how to. Besides, he'd started thinking he had imagined the feeling between them, like there never was anything, just as he'd told Sayid. He let the old man think it was a woman, and nodded at any comments to that effect, rather than say anything that would give it away.

He settled into life on the farm more easily than he expected, barely stirring off it or spending any money apart from his occasional trips into neighbouring states to send postcards to Sayid. He'd stay overnight in a cheap motel somewhere and buy a card, posting it locally, and then head back to the farm. What Grampa thought of the trips he didn't know and didn't bother to ask. 

Grampa didn't say much a lot of the time, but he seemed grateful Sawyer was there to do the heavy work, in his grizzled and uncommunicative way. He paid fairly, and without stinting on the food, so he must have been doing all right off the land, despite the state of disrepair some things were in. Sawyer fixed what he could, and did everything else Grampa asked without complaint. He wondered who'd helped before, but he didn't ask. His Grammy had died long before he left, and as far as he knew there were no other relatives around.

"You have changed," the old man allowed one day, walking away from where Sawyer was tinkering on his old tractor.

Sawyer stopped what he was doing and gave Grampa a curious look, but the old man didn't say anything else; just kept walking away. Sawyer raised his eyebrows to himself and went back to his tinkering.

Months passed, and Sawyer ached for Sayid more strongly each passing day, but he was determined to earn enough to pay off Ralston before the man found him. He couldn't go back to Sayid until he was clear, and even then, the doubt that Sayid would be interested was strong inside him. 

The year closed in, and Sawyer wondered if Ralston would be as good as his word.

Christmas was a quiet affair. Grampa made a special meal and they ate mostly in silence. No gifts were exchanged, and the only acknowledgement, apart from the food, was 'Happy Christmas, boy' as he headed upstairs, leaving Sawyer to finish his beer alone by the fire.

Sawyer had sent his last postcard from Louisiana a couple of weeks earlier; making a special long weekend trip there to do so. He'd found a card with a Christmas tree in the picture and looked at it a lot harder for the first time since the earliest card, sure he should say something this time. Ten minutes of staring at the blank side and he still couldn't think of anything to write. He doodled a vaguely heart-shaped object in a corner, still thinking, and sighed. 

There was nothing to say. Sayid would have moved on by now, doubtless. Plenty of others would have been happy to be there for him, Sawyer was sure; both men and women. Strangely, the idea of women bothered him more than men. He tried to wrap his head around why that was, but it didn't make any sense. Eventually, he posted the thought away with the card.

New Year's eve at dinner, Grampa asked him if he was going anywhere. Sawyer blinked at him in surprise.

"Thought you'd be going to meet her, like you usually do every coupla weeks. Due again 'bout now, ain't ya?"

"I haven't been meeting anyone, Gramps."

"No? My mistake, then. Just thought… you come back lookin' so haunted… thought ya must be sad to leave her each time."

"I wish… nah, never mind." Sawyer shook his head and looked back at his empty plate between them.

"She must be mighty special. This problem you got's taking some sortin'. Let me guess, money? You don't want them knowing about her, do ya? She got money you don't want 'em getting their hands on?"

Sawyer shook his head, still staring at his plate. His throat was closing up and his eyes began to blur. He blinked hard and kept still, forcing himself to swallow.

"She must be something," Grampa said, rocking slightly on his chair.

"It ain't a 'she'," Sawyer mumbled, unable to stop himself.

"What? What's that boy, 'cause I swear you said it ain't a she. Can't be right."

Sawyer looked up at last, holding himself together like a tightly coiled spring. Grampa's expression was concerned rather than angry or disgusted.

"It ain't," Sawyer said, staring belligerently from darkened eyes. 

"You gone queer, boy? Or you were always that way?"

"Don't know." Sawyer shook his head. Anger had pushed away the other emotion he didn't want to acknowledge. "The rest's about right, 'cept I ain't seen him since California; more'n eight months ago."

Grampa nodded thoughtfully, looking away for a moment. When he met Sawyer's eyes again, he nodded again, then he started eating once more.

Sawyer didn't know what to make if it. He certainly hadn't expected this. His anger drained away to be replaced by confusion.

"Ain't you gonna send me on my way? At least give me a version of the Lord's wrath to remind me what a sinner I am?"

"What's the point?" the old man said, barely stopping from eating. "It ain't gonna stop you sinning, is it? You love him?"

Taken aback by the question, Sawyer blurted the answer before he'd thought about it. "Yes."

"Maybe it ain't such a sin, then."

Sawyer blinked hard, unable to comprehend his Grampa's attitude. He'd been full of fire and brimstone all those years ago, and as far as Sawyer knew, he still went to church to get a top up every week. Sawyer hadn't ever accompanied him this trip, though.

"It seriously don't bother you?"

Grampa put down his cutlery and looked at Sawyer through surprisingly clear blue eyes.

"If this man has changed you, James - which it seems he has - I'd be a fool to condemn it. You learn after a lotta years that there's more'n one way to get by in life. There's worse sinning than that out there; long as you're keeping to others who want it. He loves you?"

"I don't know; maybe. Don't think he wanted me to leave, but he didn't stop me," Sawyer shrugged.

"But he wasn't against the idea?"

Sawyer snorted and shrugged again, getting up from his place to clear the table. He really hadn't expected to have a conversation like this with his grandfather, of all people. The unforeseen tolerance made him feel more uncomfortable than the previous hellfire and damnation he used to spout when James was a teenager.

"James?"

Sawyer turned from the sink to look at the old man.

"You should pay what you owe and go find him before it's too late."

"That's why I'm workin', Gramps. Not sure it's not too late for him already though."

"You need to make payment before you go back there, I s'pose? This man you owe money to, where's he?"

"Said he'd find me when he wanted payment. Was kinda expecting him about now, truth be told. I ain't exactly hiding where I am, and you're my only living relative."

"So it wasn't payments you've been making on those trips then? If you ain't been visiting _him_ and you're not making payments, where you been going?"

Sawyer huffed his surprise. Grampa was a shrewd old man.

"Nowhere. Just need to get out sometimes."

"You ain't been whoring, boy, have you? 'Cause that's the quickest way to lose someone's respect. Don't quite know how it is with men, but it sure don't work with women. And I know they have boys who do _that_ too. I ain't stupid."

"Gramps!" Sawyer turned away in embarrassment. "I ain't been doin' that. Sayid's the only man I been with…" _for a long time_. He wasn't about to go into which other men he'd been with before Sayid. 

"Si-yeed? Sah-yeed?" Grampa appeared to test the name like he was assessing its taste on his tongue. "What kinda name's that?"

"Sayid, Gramps. He's from Iraq."

"Iraq? You mean he's one of them terrorists?" Grampa's scowl turned ugly. "You didn't say nothing 'bout that before. What on earth d'ya think you're doing, James? You want to get yourself killed?"

"He's not like that, Gramps. He ain't a terrorist and he ain't about to hurt anyone here, least of all me. I know what you're thinking, but he's… Jesus, why am I even trying to explain it?"

"Didn't think that lot held with shirt-lifters any more'n Christian America, in any case."

"They don't."

"That why he's here?"

"No. Yes. Maybe; I don't know."

"You don't know very much by the sounds'a things, James. You sure you want to be with this man? What's so special about him that he's got you all misty-eyed so fast? Y'ain't been back in this country much longer than a year. And you been here for six months of that. Must be quite some fella, huh?" 

Sawyer smiled awkwardly, allowing his Grampa a confused glance.

"I don't say I understand any of it, James, but I know what I see. And you need to at least go see him, don't ya?"

"Yeah, but I can't 'til I've paid Ralston his money. I ain't got enough saved yet. Who knows what that bastard'll do if he realises I'm there. As it is..." Sawyer hesitated. Was it worth mentioning he'd already borrowed half of it from Sayid?

"What?"

"I already paid some. Had to borrow it."

"Who from? Let me guess... your Iraqi? The very same man you don't want this Ralston character anywhere near? Does he know the man's got money?" Another thought obviously occurred to his Grampa. "He pay you? That why you were with him?"

"No! I wasn't with him for the money! Not this time. But yeah, I borrowed from him. So I owe him, Gramps. Can't just go crawling back there with nothin' to offer."

"How much?"

"How much what? I still owe Ralston, or how much did I borrow from Sayid?"

"Either. Both."

"Twenty grand each. But on what you've been paying me, plus interest from the bank and all, I got near to ten thousand saved now. I should stay here; earn the rest to get Ralston off my back… plus something to take back to Sayid..." Sawyer trailed off, wondering at the look in the old man's eyes.

"I'll loan you 'nough to cover Ralston. Then you need to make your peace with this Sayid. Pay him back. You showed me you can work hard; you could do as well in California, couldn't you? He employ men, your Iraqi? He could hire you; let you work it off. And I don't mean on your stomach."

Sawyer's face grew heated at the suggestion, but he didn't say anything for a moment. The idea was tempting; so very tempting, but what if Sayid didn't want him back? What if he never wanted to see Sawyer again? Sawyer was the one who had said they'd never had anything; but Sayid hadn't fought too hard to disagree. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. He'd have to pay Grampa back too, which would mean another six months of work at this rate. His eyes shifted to rest on the old man's.

"Why would you do that for me?"

"James, you're the only family I got. There was a time I thought I'd never see you again. You ain't got much else either. Family's family, no matter what they done... or do. I don't want you to disappear again."

"I'm s'posed to believe that?"

"Believe what you want. I ain't gonna live forever. I'm no millionaire, but what little I got, there's no one else for me to leave it but you. You been working hard since you got here; shown me you changed, and... it'd be good if you'd stick around. Even if you go back to your fine fella in California, I'd like to hope you might consider your ol' Grampa occasionally."

With that, the old man nodded to Sawyer, got up from his seat and headed up the stairs. Sawyer watched him go in silence; sure there was some mistake. Perhaps he'd dreamed all this. In the whole time he'd been here, they'd never spoken so much. Running a hand over his face, Sawyer turned back to the counter and sighed as he started the dishes.

~//~

It was a few days later when Ralston came calling. It was a warm day for January, and Sawyer was in shirtsleeves, the plaid rolled up to his elbows as he pottered about under the hood of the old pick-up. He'd been promising Grampa for weeks he could get it going, and there wasn't much else he needed to do around the farm right now.

Neither of them had mentioned their New Year's Eve conversation yet, but Sawyer hadn't stopped thinking about it. A couple of times he'd almost said something, but then figured he might as well wait 'til Ralston found him.

"You aren't exactly predictable, are you, Sawyer?" Ralston's deep baritone rumbled from several feet away.

Sawyer stopped turning the wrench he had a hold of for a second, his heart speeding up. Taking a deep breath, he carried on with what he'd been doing as Ralston stepped closer, and refused to look out from under the hood.

"Being predictable just gets you caught," Sawyer commented, sighing and straightening up. "Wanna see if it'll turn over?" He gestured into the cab of the truck and was almost surprised when Ralston got in and did as he'd suggested. Sawyer grinned as the engine roared to life, and wiped the grease off his hands before slamming the hood down.

Ralston turned the key off and got out of the pick-up.

"I need my money, Sawyer. All of it. Twenty five grand."

Sawyer's smirk turned leery. "Interest sure piles up fast. But I got it."

"You do? The old man got gold buried here somewhere?" Ralston asked, staring around as if expecting it to be on display. "Sure don't look like a Southern Plantation."

"He ain't got anything worth your consideration," Sawyer growled. "I been working; earned it. I can get it by day after tomorrow. Have to sort a few things out."

"Day after tomorrow? Why not today?"

"Bank's not open 'til Monday. Ain't no cash here, I promise you."

"Y'mean he don't keep wads of it under his mattress? Thought that was the only bank you rednecks trusted," Ralston said with a smug grin.

Sawyer didn't reply. He walked towards the house and sat on the stairs, fishing for his cigarettes and lighting one up slowly as Ralston stood nearby and watched. Savouring the smoke, Sawyer leaned back on a hand and eyed the big man warily.

"I'll meet you in town, Monday. Two o'clock at the diner on the corner of 3rd Street. Make sure it's all there," Ralston finally came out with when Sawyer still hadn't spoken after a few minutes.

Sawyer nodded and sniffed, flicking ash away and putting the smoke back between his lips.

"You given up on your Iraqi?" Ralston asked.

"Never was mine," Sawyer replied, looking past Ralston with narrowed eyes at the clouds drawing in over the fields. He sucked hard on the cigarette and tried not to let the constriction of his heart show on his face. "Just a passin' thing."

"Gone back to women now, have ya?" Ralston taunted, his leer growing.

"Yeah, that's right," Sawyer agreed, blowing out a long stream of smoke. "Now why don't you fuck off and let me get back to my work?"

Ralston's grin dropped away quickly and he gave Sawyer a hard stare. Sawyer offered up impassive eyes as he smoked some more, then flicked the butt into the scrappy garden next to him as he stood up.

"I'll be there," he advised, and made his way indoors, not stopping to see if Ralston stayed or left.

~//~

Sawyer dropped the envelope casually on the table next to Ralston, but stayed standing.

"You can count it. It's all there."

Ralston looked up at him, smiling, and reached for the envelope greedily. "You're not staying for coffee?"

"You got your money, Ralston; now leave me alone," Sawyer told him as he stepped away.

"You sure the old man doesn't have any more hidden away?"

Sawyer moved faster than Ralston could have expected, and the way he shivered in fright as Sawyer grabbed his shirt-front and growled into his face told him the man wasn't nearly as effective at intimidating people without his thugs beside him.

"You leave my family alone, Ralston, you hear? You come back here for any reason - _any_ reason at all - and I'll hunt you down. I'll cut off your balls and feed them to you if you so much as look in the direction of this town. You got that?"

The look in Ralston's eyes as Sawyer let him go said the man believed him. Ralston nodded, wide-eyed, as he straightened his clothes. He pocketed the envelope and stood up as Sawyer stood by, pushing hair out of his eyes with one hand. He scowled angrily as he watched Ralston throw a couple of crumpled bills on the table and practically run out of the diner.

Sawyer looked around at the few people in the diner, still scowling.

"What?" he asked, his brow creasing further.

A few people shook their heads; others simply looked away. Sawyer snorted and headed for the door.

Ralston's large figure was climbing into a sedan a few paces down the street, and Sawyer stopped in the shadow of the diner to watch as he slammed the car door and quickly started it up. The car skidded in his rush to get away, and Sawyer finally allowed himself a relieved smile. He figured he might just have seen the last of Ralston.

~//~

"You didn't have to pick flowers on my account," Sawyer said, walking hesitantly up the path to Sayid's house.

Sayid spun around, dropping the bunch of whatever pretty things he was holding and staring open-mouthed at him.

Sawyer stopped where he was and shoved a hand in his pocket, one corner of his lip curving upwards nervously.

"Sawyer. I thought..." Sayid swallowed and looked away, his eyes dark and troubled.

"Yeah, me too," Sawyer said, though he wasn't sure what he was agreeing to. "Thought I should at least say thank you after all this time."

"Thank you? For what?" Sayid seemed genuinely perplexed as he stood there, a pair of pruning shears in one hand, which he now lifted up to look at in surprise as if he'd forgotten he had them.

"For lending me the cash. I just came to tell you I'm gonna pay you back."

"You don't have to," Sayid murmured, fiddling with the cutters, his eyes flicking uncomfortably between the object in his hands and Sawyer's face. "It was a gift."

Sawyer shook his head, shifting from one foot to the other. "Nah, can't do that. Need to pay it back. You helped me out of a bind, Sayid, and I'm all clear from that now. I can get work here in L.A., and pay it off. I _have_ to. I owe you that much."

"You don't owe me anything, Sawyer."

"You know I do," Sawyer said, the words coming out more pained than he'd intended.

"Where are you staying?" Sayid stopped playing with the cutters and looked straight at Sawyer.

The look made a hot flood of emotion rush right through Sawyer's body and it took all his self-control not to take the few steps between them and crush his lips to Sayid's.

"I'm in a motel for now. I'll find an apartment soon."

Sayid nodded, dropping his eyes. "At least come in for coffee?" he asked as he looked up again. 

"Sure you want me to?"

Giving another nod, Sayid crouched down to retrieve the flowers he'd dropped. Sawyer watched him, seeing the tension in his body. It occurred to him that Sayid was as nervous as he was, which Sawyer hadn't expected.

"You okay?" he asked as Sayid stood up.

"Come in, Sawyer, please." Sayid didn't look at him this time; he simply walked down the path and through the open door, still holding the bunch of flowers in one hand and the shears in the other.

Sawyer narrowed his eyes, thinking, before following, carefully shutting the door behind him as he crossed the living room and made his way into the kitchen. Sayid was arranging the flowers in a vase, his back to Sawyer. 

The tension was still etched across his shoulders and Sawyer ached to massage it away, but he didn't dare touch Sayid. He glanced around the once-familiar room, his eyes lighting on some familiar images pinned to a corkboard on one wall. 

His postcards.

"You kept 'em?" he queried softly, stepping closer to the board. 

There was a small map next to them with some pins in it. Careful study revealed places marked that Sawyer had visited.

He'd forgotten how many cards he'd sent. There were at least a dozen of them, and Sayid must have studied each postmark carefully. The Christmas one - the one nearest the end, and the last one he'd sent - was up the other way, its picture against the wall. The corner Sawyer had doodled in was marked as if someone had run a dirty finger over it. The image of Sayid holding it and touching his heart like that made Sawyer take a long shuddering breath as he stared at it, hand to his mouth.

"I tried to work out where you were every time I got one," Sayid said softly from his right shoulder, "but no doubt you'd moved on each time. Except the last few; they seemed to be in a circle. When I realised what state was at their centre, I almost came looking for you."

Sawyer turned at that.

"You did?"

Sayid's smile was uneasy, although it tried it's best to assert itself, but the sadness in dark eyes didn't disappear.

"Why... why didn't you?" Sawyer asked.

"If you love something, set it free," Sayid said, still studying him carefully.

"If it comes back..." Sawyer murmured, understanding at last. "Sayid, I was always yours. I just wasn't sure you were mine."

Sayid shook his head softly, and although his lips parted, he looked too overcome to speak. 

There was nothing else for Sawyer to say either. He stepped forward, pulling Sayid into his arms.

~//~

Of course, Sawyer had pictured Sayid's skin, and imagined touching it enough times while they'd been apart, but the reality was much better. He ran his hands lightly up Sayid's back as they stripped each other, savouring the feel of it, and licked slowly into Sayid's ready mouth. He wanted to make it last as long as he could, and it seemed like Sayid wasn't in any bigger hurry.

The kiss tasted as he remembered. Sawyer closed his eyes, drinking in the flavours he thought he'd never get the opportunity to experience again. He wasn't sure he could pull away, but eventually they had to, as breathing became necessary.

Still tightly wrapped around each other, they stood in the bedroom, where they'd at least managed to get after the initial fumbling caresses and uneasy declarations of love. Sayid's cock was hard against his thigh, and Sawyer trembled as he ran caressing fingers across a furrowed brow.

"Fuck, Ali, why d'we do this to each other?"

"Because you are clearly an idiot, and I'm just waiting for you to realise that," Sayid told Sawyer, pushing him backwards towards the bed.

Sawyer quirked an eyebrow, but let himself be manipulated. "What d'you want an idiot for, oh wise one? To make you look smarter somehow?"

"That's right, and I'm about to show you exactly how much smarter," Sayid said, pushing him again so that Sawyer lost his balance to fall on the bed.

He laughed as Sayid landed on top of him and began licking and sucking at his neck. Heated hands moved everywhere, and Sawyer didn't know which sensation to give into. His neck tingled deliciously, his body trembled and his hips jerked upward under the press of hard flesh onto him. He held on tight and closed his eyes in ecstasy.

"I want to fuck you so bad," he groaned after some minutes of this.

"You do?" Sayid said, biting at his neck. 

The movement of lips made all the hairs stand up on Sawyer's body, making him groan once more.

"How much?"

"So bad..." Sawyer repeated, trying to roll them over.

"No," Sayid told him, rising up and slamming his wrists down to the bed, effectively holding him there.

The anger in Sayid's eyes made Sawyer widen his own in surprise.

"What?" he asked, heart thumping.

"No," Sayid repeated, "You don't get to run off like that, then come back thinking you can fuck me so easily."

"Sayid..." Sawyer breathed, unsure what had changed Sayid's mood so fast. It was true they didn't often do it with Sawyer on top, but it wasn't as if they hadn't. "Whatever you want..." he added, frowning as he tried to work out what Sayid was thinking.

Then Sayid was blinking hard, relaxing his hold on Sawyer. His cock had softened, as had Sawyer's, and he looked like he might cry.

Licking his lips, he slowly lifted his eyes to meet Sawyer's. "I thought you'd left me. The postcards... That you were just tormenting me by sending them. I thought I'd made a mistake, Sawyer. That setting you free was just pushing you further. Yesterday... yesterday, I almost threw them all away. You have no idea how close I came to doing that."

"Sayid, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had." Sayid meant more than just the postcards, Sawyer knew, but he wouldn't say that out loud for fear it could still happen. "I'm sorry. I just... I couldn't stay. The money I owed; the man who wanted it... he wouldn't have left us alone if he knew you had it. I had to get rid of him. But I'm all clear now, chief. We can-"

"You could have told me! I could have helped. _We_ didn't do this to each other, Sawyer; _You_ did it."

Guilt burned through Sawyer, and he knew Sayid was right. He could say all sorts of things to excuse it: that he didn't want Ralston sniffing around Sayid and figuring things out; that he didn't want Ralston to think Sayid had money, or any number of any other things, but none of them would be completely true.

"You're right," he managed, trying to pull away from Sayid. "I'm an idiot and I nearly threw away something good."

"Yes, and I could go on holding this grudge," Sayid said, tightening his grip and not letting Sawyer go, "Or I could fuck it out of my system."

Sawyer blinked in surprise, flicking a glance to a hardening cock.

"I love you, Sawyer, don't you get that? Never _ever_ do that again, do you hear me?" 

Sawyer nodded, unable to do anything else.

Sayid let go and reached across him, fumbling in the nightstand for something. Sawyer watched, his heart speeding up as he realised what Sayid wanted.

"I'd chain you to the bed and keep you here naked all the time if I could get away with it," Sayid whispered harshly as he bound Sawyer's wrists to the headboard with the silk ties he'd found, "but someone would probably notice eventually. Keep still now, just for this. Then I'll set you free again."

Seconds later, Sayid was on him once more, his mouth licking and sucking hungrily all over Sawyer's body; his hands stroking, plucking, stirring, pinching and caressing in equal measure.

"I've missed this so much," Sayid purred as Sawyer trembled under the touches, his cock back to full hardness in almost no time. 

Sawyer ached for release, but he didn't want to let go until Sayid allowed it. If this was the opposite of being set free, Sawyer wanted it more than he'd hated being alone.

Temptingly, Sayid kissed around his cock, making Sawyer whimper in need. Sayid pushed at him, planting Sawyer's feet flat on the bed and hitching his hips up on a pillow to reach Sawyer's asshole more easily. Still ignoring his cock, the flat of Sayid's tongue swiped over Sawyer's perineum several times, making his prick throb. Eventually, Sayid's tongue tip circled his pucker delicately; too delicately for Sawyer's liking and he couldn't help himself.

"Please, please..." he muttered, trying to tilt his hips for greater contact. 

Sayid's tongue danced away, but he didn't speak.

" _Please..._ " Sawyer's begging had become a whine. It had been so long since he'd let anyone touch him, he began to think he might come without much more, but the tantalising touches weren't quite _enough_.

And then, almost without warning, Sayid's hot, wet tongue breached him, pushing harshly through the ring of muscle, and then stroking out again.

"Fuck!" Sawyer practically screamed, his cock bouncing against his belly.

Sayid went back in once, twice, three times, and Sawyer could feel his climax building. He didn't think he'd even need to be fucked properly now.

Sayid evidently had other ideas. Pulling away completely, he grabbed at the lube he'd pulled out with the ties, and flicked the bottle open, lust-darkened eyes holding Sawyer's.

"Don't you dare come until I tell you to," Sayid warned, leaning over him and brushing their lips together torturously.

Sawyer wanted his mouth closer, but he wanted Sayid buried balls deep in his body more. He nodded as Sayid moved away. Kneeling between his legs, Sayid kept his eyes trained on Sawyer's face as he slicked himself up. Sawyer's trembling increased further, and he found himself begging again as Sayid took too long.

"Please. Fuck me, I'm yours; just yours. _Please..._ "

Sayid smiled evilly, like it was all he'd been waiting to hear, his heated cock pushing in with force in one long, hard glide as Sawyer's body opened up to him like he never did to another.

"Only yours," Sawyer groaned as Sayid filled him and made him complete.

Holding still for a moment, Sayid took a deep breath, and then he stroked in and almost all the way out before pushing back in with even more power, leaning over Sawyer on one hand as he wrapped a hand around Sawyer's left leg and lifted it up to sink even deeper inside.

"Mine," Sayid grunted.

"Yes, yours," Sawyer agreed, his climax spiralling nearer as Sayid's cock struck his prostate repeatedly.

"You can come now."

Flexing his bound hands as he attempted to push back against each thrust, Sawyer gasped harshly, his vision dimming as he hit his peak at Sayid's bidding. Sayid's hot flesh pounded into him over and over, and Sawyer thought he would pass out as his cock spurted. Sayid shifted the hand on his leg to wrap around Sawyer's sensitive flesh as he milked every last drop, his thrusts not yet slowing.

Sawyer writhed in his bonds, his cries growing louder as Sayid kept working him, making his muscles contract involuntarily around Sayid's cock. Sayid grunted more loudly, tensing for a second before he let go of Sawyer's cock - which had given up all it could - and jerked his hips erratically a few more times. One final groan and Sayid flopped down unceremoniously on Sawyer's chest without withdrawing.

They lay there panting for a few moments, heartbeats duelling loudly against one another. Sayid took a long, loud breath and finally slipped his prick wetly out of Sawyer's body, before reaching to unbind his wrists. Sawyer let his legs slide to the bed at last and wrapped tired arms across Sayid's back.

"There, you're free again," Sayid muttered.

"Gotta go..." Sawyer murmured back without thinking.

"What?"

"The bathroom, Ali; just the bathroom. Don't worry, I'm coming back," he grinned, planting a kiss on Sayid's now smiling face as he dragged his sore but very well-used ass off the bed. "Won't get rid of me that easy again, I promise."

"I should bloody-well hope not," Sayid threw at him with an answering grin.

Sawyer took a deep breath as he left the room. He looked at the plaque on the wall as he washed his hands after he'd done what he needed. He smiled, wondering how often Sayid had read it, and wished he'd remembered the old saying when he was on the road.

 _If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was._

Sayid had set him free. Now he was back, there was no more 'never was' about it. 

~//~//~

END


End file.
